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Must. Horse or ass, that's as thy mother made thee: but take earnest, in the first place, for thy sauciness.—[Lashes him with his IVhip.]—lie advised, friend, and buckle to thy geers: Behold my ensign of royalty displayed over thee.

Ant. I hope one day to use thee worse in Portugal.

Must. Ay, and good reason, friend; if thou catchest me a-conquering on thy side of the water, lay on me lustily; I will take it as kindly as thou dost this.—" [Holds up his JVhip.

Ant. [Lying doom."] Hold, my dear Thrum-cap: I obey thee cheerfully.—I see the doctrine of nonresistance is never practised thoroughly, but when a man can't help himself.

Enter a second Merchant.

2d Mer. You, friend, I would see that fellow do his postures.

Must. [Bridling Avt.] Now, sirrah, follow, for you have rope enough: To your paces, villain, amble, trot,and gallop:—Quick about, there.—Yeap! the more money's bidden for you, the more your credit.

[antonio follows, at the end of the Bridle, on his Hands and Feet, and does all his Postures.

2d Mer. He is well chined, and has a tolerable good back; that is half in half.—[To Musr.J—I would see him strip; has he no diseases about him?

Must. He is the best piece of man's flesh in the market, not an eye-sore in his whole body, l eel his legs, master; neither splint, spavin, nor windgall. [Claps hint on the Sh iulaer.

Mer. [Feeling about him, and then putting his Hand on his Side.] Out upon him, how his flank heaves! The whore-son is broken-winded.

Must. Thick-breathed a little; nothing but a sorry cold with lying out a-nights in trenches; but sound, wind and limb, I warrant him.—Try him at a loose trot a little.

[Puts the Bridle into his Hand, he strokes him.

Ant For heaven's sake, owner, spare me: you know I am but new broken.

%d Mer. Tis but a washy jade, I see: what do you ask for this bauble?

Must. Bauble, do you call him? he is a substantial true-bred beast; bravely forehanded. Mark but the cleanness of his shapes too: his dam may be a Spanish gennet, but a true barb by the sire, or I have no skill in horseflesh:—Marry, I ask six hundred xerifts for him.

Enter Mufti.

Mufti. What is that you are asking, sirrah?Must. Marry, I ask your reverence six hundred

Eardons; I was doing you a small piece of service ere, putting off your cattle for you. Mujti. And putting the money into your own pocket.

Must. Upon vulgar reputation, no, my lord; it was for your profit and emolument. What! wrong the head of my religion? I was sensible you would have damned me, or any man, that should have injured you in a single farthing; for I knew that was sacrifice.

Mufti. Sacrilege, you mean, sirrah,—and damning shall be the least part of your punishment: I have taken you in the manner, and will have the law upon you.

Must. Good my lord, take pity upon a poor man in this world, and damn me in the next.

Mufti. No, sirrah, so you may repent and escape punishment: Did not you sell this very slave amongst the rest to me, and take money for him? Must. Right, my lord.

Mufti. And selling him again? take money twice for the same commodity? Oh, villain! but did you not know him to be my slave, sirrah?

Must. Why should I lie to your honour? I did know him: and thereupon, seeing him wander about, took him up for a stray, and impounded him, with intention to restore him to the right owner.

Mufti. And yet at the same time was selling him to another: How rarely the story hangs together!

Must. Patience, my lord. I took him up, as your herriot, with intention to have made the best of him, and then have brought the whole product of him in a purse to you; for I know you would have spent half of it upon your pious pleasures, have hoarded up the other half, and given the remainder in charities to the poor.

Mufti. And what's become of my other slave? Thou hast sold him too, I have a villainous suspicion.

Must. I know you have, my lord; but while I was managing this young robustious fellow, that old spark, who was nothing but skin and bone, and by consequence very nimble, slipt through my fingers like an eel, for there was no hold-fast of him, and ran away to buy himself a new master.

Muft. [To Ant.] Follow me home, sirrah:—[To Must.] I shall remember you some other time.

[Exit Mufti with Ant.

Must. I never doubted your lordship's memory for an ill turn: And I shall remember him too in the next rising of the mobile for this act of resumption; and more especially for the ghostly counsel he gave me before the emperor, to have hanged myself in silence to have saved his reverence. The best on't is, I am beforehand with him for selling one of his slaves twice over; and if he had not come just in the nick, I might have pocketed up the other; for what should a poor man do that gets his living by hard labour, but pray for bad times when he may get it easily? O for some incomparable tumult! Then should I naturally wish that the beaten party might prevail; because we have plundered the other side already, and there is nothing more to get of them.

Both rich and poor for their own interest pray,
'Tis ours to make our fortune while we may;
For kingdoms are not conquered every day. [Exit.


SCENE I.—Supposed to be a Terrace Walk, on the side (j the Castle of Alcazar.

Enter Emplror and Bjsnducar.

Emp. And thinkst thou not, it was discovered?Bend. No:

The thoughts of kings are like religious groves,
The walks of muffled gods: Sacred retreat,
Where none, but whom they please to admit, ap-

Emp. Did not my conscious eye flash out a flame,
To lighten those brown horrors, and disclose
The secret path I trod?

JJena i could not find it, till you lent a clue To that close labyrinth; how then should they?

Emp. I would be loth they should: it breeds contempt For herds to listen, or presume to pry,

When the hurt lion groans within his den:But is't not strange?

Bend. To love? not more than 'tis to live; a tax Imposed on all by nature, paid in kind, Familiar as our being. Emp. Still 'tis strange To me: I know my soul as wild as winds, That sweep the desarts of our moving plains;Love might as well be sowed upon our sands, As in a breast so barren. To love an enemy, the only one Remaining too, whom yester sun beheld Mustering her charms, and rolling, as she past By every squadron, her alluring eyes, To edge her champions' swords, and urge my ruin. The shouts of soldiers, and the burst of cannon, Maintain even still a deaf and murmuring noise;Nor is heaven yet recovered of the sound, Her battle roused: Yet, spite of me, I love. Bend. What then controuls you?Her person is as prostrate as her party.

Emp. A thousand things controul this conqueror:My native pride to own the unworthy passion, Hazard of interest, and my people's love. To what a storm of fate am I exposed!— What if I had her murdered!—'tis but what My subjects all expect, and she deserves,— Would not the impossibility Of ever, ever seeing, or possessing, Calm all this rage, this hurricane of soul?

Bend. That ever, ever,— I marked the double,—shows extreme reluctance To part with her for ever. Emp. Right, thou hast me. I would, but cannot kill: I must enjoy her: I must, and what I must, be sure I will. What's royalty, but power to please myself?

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